


Stress

by The_Sunflower_Seed



Series: Autobot Academy [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Crosshairs actually listens to advice for once, Finals, Fluff, Innuendos (if you squint), Nelson is a persistent shit, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sunflower_Seed/pseuds/The_Sunflower_Seed
Summary: Crosshairs is stressed and you want him to relax and unwind.





	Stress

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from my finals since I'm stressed and have to move out in less than twenty-four hours. Procrastination is the culprit.

It was a hot day, hot enough to make you run a cold bath. You let the water run, as you looked outside the bedroom window to where the academy field barely came into view. Occasionally you could see your husband, Crosshairs, storm across the field and yell at some poor cadet. He was definite eye candy with tan skin, dark hair, bright eyes, and a physique no one can compare to. It was all hidden under his green camouflage trench coat, the jacket billowing behind him as he disappeared to the far left of the field.

You shook your head with a small smile on your face. Ever since the incident regarding the flag pole, Crosshairs has been extra hard on his class. It was a funny scenario that you had a front row seat to and a second-hand view of the poor soul who decided to prank his instructor. Even though when Crosshairs came back from dishing out the punishment, it led to one of the best nights you’ve ever had!

Pushing off the window sill, you strolled back into the bathroom, the dingy atmosphere now more of a home than any other place you have lived previously. You shut off the faucet, listening to the stream turn into a couple pleasant-sounding drips. Discarding your clothes, you climbed into the bathtub and let the cool water wash over your sore and blazing hot skin. A soft sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes and sunk deeper into the tub.

Thoughts drifted to how stressed Crosshairs has been lately. Spring semester was about to end in a week or so, with the temperature heating up, so did the stress with grading and the cadets coming to your residence to haggle over their grade with Cross. It didn’t end well at the end of the night for Crosshairs, usually he blatantly scolded the kid to go away and not bother you. The cadets always came over when Cross isn’t around, they’d strike up a conversation with you and try to get into your favor. With your favor, the cadets think it’d immediately get into Crosshair’s good graces.

They were far from the truth, in fact, it made Cross mad that they were digging into his private life concerning you. Made him go crazy some days and he was possessive of you, proving it every night when he was sure all the cadets had turned in and weren’t sneaking out. It was a nice stress relieving activity for Cross and you enjoyed it as well.

A distinct chime floated in on the hot wind, making you open your eyes. You snatched a spare towel off the towel rack and stepped out of the bathtub, the hot air smashing against your cold body, making you regret getting out. You quickly dried yourself off before going over to the dresser and picking out a loose spaghetti strapped shirt and athletic shorts. Another chime and you threw on your clothes before you descended the stairs rapidly, and faced the culprit of the noise through the screen door: Nelson.

This cadet was responsible for the whole flagpole incident with Crosshairs. Your husband told you the story and the punishment he made Nelson do. You would’ve pitied him except the jokes Cross was relying back to you, they made you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe! It was bad but it was fitting after seeing what Nelson had done.

You strolled over to the door and stopped a few feet from it, not comfortable enough to let in the cadet, “Crosshairs is out right now.”

“I know, can I talk to you instead?” Nelson’s eyes were hard as stone and serious. You looked over to the kitchen where the clock was located in.

1:45 p.m.

An hour and fifteen minutes before Crosshairs came back from his session with his cadets. Hey wait –

“Why aren’t you out training?”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase: what’s on the final?”

“Huh?”

                Nelson shook his head irritably at you before repeating his question, “What’s on the final?” Oh right, Crosshairs had been bitching about the final test being a pain in the ass to create. He was procrastinating on making the test, but the semester was going to end in roughly a week and a half. He needed to get cracking on it! You shook your head, “Cross didn’t even start one yet.”

“Hey! What are you doing out here cadet?” Nelson turned and sprinted away as fast as he could. The voice belonged to no other than Hound, the basic medic and survival teacher. He didn’t chase after the cadet, but instead he walked onto your porch.

“I hope he wasn’t bothering you (f/n). I’ve seen cadets come over and speak with you or Cross but mainly you.” He took an extra puff of his cigar, the smoke floating in unique patterns before being carried off into the wind. You shook your head, “It’s okay for them to speak with me but I don’t like being asked to talk to Cross about their grades.”

“I understand.” Hound was curt and you looked behind him; no one was around. It had been a while since you’ve last spoken to Hound, you only met him briefly when you moved in with your husband, the rest of the time it was nice pleasantries from your kitchen window.

“Would you like to come in and chat for a while? Or do you have to go back to the academy?”

“Sorry, I’d like to but I came to herd the stray cadet back to Cross.”

“Thanks for doing that and have a good day!” You heard a soft “you too”.

                You went back upstairs to enjoy your cool bath. You stripped again and dipped back into the cool water, slightly warmed by the air but not too much. Time passed fast as you heard your screen door open and close with a clack. It meant Crosshairs was home and hopefully it meant he was in the mood to satisfy your desire for him. Out of the tub, you pulled the stopper out, and picked up the clothes you were wearing previously. You slid them on and crept down the carpeted staircase, peaking from the banner to see Crosshairs splayed on the couch.

                His eyes were closed, head resting on the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, and legs splayed out wide. To many people, he looked over dramatic but it meant he was exhausted and frustrated with whatever was going on. Most likely the finals. Quietly, you walked over to your husband and positioned yourself behind his head, loving the view you had. Bending over, you kissed his slightly chapped lips and it was returned half-heartedly.

“What’s wrong?” You mutter in his ear as your hands trailed down to his trench coat, still buttoned from this morning. Calmly, you went to work on the buttons, slowly undoing them, one-by-one. Cross kept his eyes closed, turning his head so his lips weakly pecked your cheek, “Got shit to do.”

“You mean finals?”

“Yes,” A hiss in the stuffy atmosphere as you continued undoing his coat, “and the fat ass wants our classes to compete and see who is the better teacher.” Your thoughts drifted back to Hound who had stopped by earlier in the afternoon. It was better to tell Cross what had happened since you didn’t know if it was relevant to him or not.

“Hound did come over today.”

“What for?” Cross bit out, his eyes snapping open to stare at you. You kissed his forehead, “Hound was chasing off Nelson. He wanted to know what the final was and what to study for.”

“Joke’s on him: I didn’t even start one yet.” Undoing the last button, your hands traced back up to Cross’s shoulders and they dipped between Cross’s coat and his shirt. With a fluid push, the trench coat slid off Cross’s shoulders, the paratrooper pulled his arms free from the confines slowly before bending forward and pressing his face into his hands.

It was perplexing. This was something you’ve never seen before from Crosshairs. Your hands went to his shoulders, pressing and kneading the knots starting to form there. A low groan was your reward, “I’m fucked.”

“Well I was planning on doing that tonight.” You teased lightly, it earned a small chuckle before Crosshairs sat straight up, bending his neck a bit backwards, meeting your lips with his. He withdrew hesitantly, “I should get started on that damn final. It’s hard to write a final on sneaking and shit like that.”

A lightbulb went off in your head, this idea could help Crosshairs with his problems. You pressed another kiss on his lips and massaged his shoulders deeper.

“Why not make the final your class versus Hound’s class?” Your husband’s eyes narrowed on you with a hint of frustration, “I’ve got to evaluate their performance and shit like that. Mainly by paper.”

“Didn’t Joyce recently buy those cameras you can pin to each student? It’d record what they were doing on the battlefield and you can grade them that way.” With a shake of his head, Crosshairs stood and walked around the couch, facing you with a scowl on his face. When did he get so grumpy? You were trying to put his mind at ease not make him mad. He ran a hand down his face and with a sigh, he explained, “That’s a lot of watching and wishing I had never taken this job. My class makes me cringe. They’re that bad.”

You rolled your eyes at your husband being stubborn. Some days you loved him, other days you wanted to smack him with a frying pan!

“Either you write a test or do the course against Hound and watch your cadets’ recordings.” Crosshairs rolled his eyes at you as he mulled over the options you presented him. While he was doing that, you looked over to the clock on the kitchen wall.

3:50 p.m.

Dinner wasn’t going to cook itself. Steak and potatoes were on the menu tonight, Crosshair’s favorite meal. You reserved this meal when he was having a rough day or for a special occasion. He was visibly stressed out about finals. Apparently stabbing and cutting his steak had some sort of soothing effect for his nerves. It worried you in the beginning of your relationship since it signaled aggression with the potential of lashing out. You were proven wrong and it didn’t worry you anymore. You pulled a steak out from the refrigerator, and threw the meat into the broiler already lined with clean tin foil. Grills were prohibited since the academy resided in a crowded forest and Optimus wanted to minimize the risk of forest fires. The school was off the grid, to make the courses more realistic.

It didn’t bother you as much, you enjoyed the solitude except for the cadets coming to your house to argue with your husband over their grades. Combat boots clomped against the hardwood floors, heading up the stairs and disappearing somewhere upstairs. You shrugged, going over to the pantry and grabbing a few potatoes.

Ding-dong.

You put the potatoes in the sink and turned on the water before walking into view of the screen door. It was Nelson again. You jogged over and stopped short of the screen door, “Crosshairs is busy right now.”

“What’s on the final?”

This was getting annoying! Now you understood why Crosshairs lost his mind half the time. The cadets obviously didn’t leave you alone until they were satisfied with the answer they want to hear. Before you could even voice your denial, “Nelson!” Crosshairs barked savagely, his tone made you jump. It was his scary tone and you didn’t want to get caught in between the two. You immediately turned tail and scurried back into the kitchen, focusing on making dinner. The door complained as it was thrown open and clacked loudly signaling Cross’s departure.

You could hear your husband roaring angrily at Nelson, his words incomprehensible as the roar started dying in volume. It was the military’s policy to escort the cadets back to the main campus since the residential areas were off-limits to all cadets unless invited by a specific instructor.

At least it’d give you time to make the dinner nice and welcoming for Crosshairs to enjoy.

About half an hour later, Crosshairs came walking through the door, a pile of papers tucked under his arm, his face plastered with annoyance. He strode past you without so much of a glance, walking up the steps and disappearing once again. It didn’t concern you much, his office was the bedroom, papers scattered everywhere. He was a slob and no matter how hard you tried to keep things organized, Crosshairs could magically make everything fall into a mess just by twitching his mustache. You pulled both steaks out of the broiler and onto the awaiting plates, happy Cross came home in time for dinner. He got sidetracked with disciplining unfortunate cadets crossing his path.

As you were putting the baked potatoes on your plates, arms wrapped around your waist, lips pecking your neck followed by a teasing chuckle, “Mmm…my favorite.” He continued his assault on your neck before grabbing his plate and moved over to the couch.

You guys didn’t have a kitchen table since this house was extremely small considering it was meant to only house one person. A basic living room, kitchen, bedroom, laundry room, and bathroom was all the house had to offer.

“I took your advice.”

“Oh?”

“Makin’ the fight with Hound’s class my cadet’s final.”

“It’s good you finally listened to me.” You purred and followed Crosshairs over to the couch, sitting next to him, your plate resting in your lap. He didn’t look at you as he roughly cut his meat and devoured it like a ravenous dog. Silence passed between you two as you ate your meals. Cross finished first, tossing the plate onto the coffee table and you followed shortly.

“Since it was your idea for me to watch my cadet’s videos as a final, you’re going to suffer with me.” Cross lunged at you, pinning you down into the couch, you gave a shriek of surprise but it turned into light giggles.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like suffering to me.”

“Oh you don’t even know the half of it.”


End file.
